


you've got those big blue eyes, drive me crazy

by harryslovechild



Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: Fluff, Friends to Lovers, Halloween, Jealousy, Light Angst, M/M, ik im late sue me
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-11-01
Updated: 2018-11-01
Packaged: 2019-08-07 06:52:40
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,967
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16403435
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/harryslovechild/pseuds/harryslovechild
Summary: The boys have a slumber party on Halloween night. Includes pumpkin carving, lots of jealousy and endless amounts of fluff !!(Louis smiles back, but glances at Harry through the corner of his eyes, and then it's faltering. "Stan and I can carve this one," he says.Harry tries not to let that comment stab his heart, but it does anyway. He finds himself sweating, the perspiration on his skin heavy, and the saliva building up in the back of his throat almost chokes him. He doesn't feel right. It feels all wrong. All wrong."Niall, I need another shot," he says, hopping off the couch to find Niall in the kitchen. "Get me fucked.""Two shots aren't gonna fuck you up, H," Niall cackles, drawing a face onto his pumpkin. It looks like Jigsaw. "But jello shots will, and we happen to have about a billion of those in the fridge--"Before Niall can stop and get them out, Harry is fast walking to the fridge, placing them on the counter top and making a face. He thinks they're kind of gross. And he told Louis that he wasn't going to drink. Louis has no idea that he is even doing this. But frankly, Louis can go pound sand.)





	you've got those big blue eyes, drive me crazy

It was as simple as this: boys having a sleepover that involved candy corn, mini chocolate bars and scary movies on Halloween night.

The sleepover was orchestrated by Niall himself, claiming to be lonelier than he's ever been after being away at college for so long. Not that the other boys particularly _minded_. They themselves have been so busy with working and focusing on taking care of their family that they are rightfully exhausted, so this is like a breath of fresh air for each of them in a sense. 

They'd all gathered together at dinner time, ordered a few loaded pizzas and liters of soda (which Harry insisted on buying since he wasn't planning on drinking like the rest of the lads, much to every one else's dismay) and some garlic sticks on the side.

("All this food could feed just me," Niall had cackled earlier.)

It's about eight now and there's a movie on, called _Aliens_ or something stupid like that. At least, according to Harry. Of course, though, if he spoke this out loud, Louis would only pop in for the chance of a debate and argue with Harry just for the sake of it. That's what best mates are for, isn't it? 

And they, Harry and Louis, have been close since about third grade. Louis can still remember when the other boy stole his shoes for recess and Louis'd confronted him about it. It didn't particularly end well, because Harry had started to cry, alerting the attention of the teachers on watching duty and then they had decided that calling Harry's parents to come would be a bright idea. Fast forward about fifteen minutes and his mother was taking both Harry and Louis to McDonald's to work things out. Louis still remembers when Harry stole his fries, dipped them in ketchup, popped them in his mouth and spoke three words: _Sorry, Lou._

Louis is still thankful for those teachers, because without them, he wouldn't be best mates with the boy. They've just been going from there since, but that's another story. 

Harry's currently lounging beside Niall on the couch, listening to him rave about the new chicken place downtown, while Louis is sat on the other side of them, either checking twitter or watching the footie game on the telly and Liam is doing whatever he is doing in the loo. 

"--And, like, it's got these fried chicken legs that remind you of Texas and shit. Totally Southern. I mean, technically I've never  _had_   Southern fried chicken, and only tasted me mum's, but one time I cooked up the best chicken wings in high school, so that kind of counts, you know?" Niall says, looking thoroughly at Harry to gauge his reaction and maybe feel like someone cares enough to listen. 

Because Harry is nicer than nice, he smiles and nods, stretching out his leg to nudge Niall with his toes. "I know."

All he gets back is a wide grin, before the blonde boy is racing to the kitchen, announcing that he's getting another drink. "Oi, any of you lads want another? I can feel me tummy rumbling for some tequila shots."

"How much alcohol did you _bring?"_ Louis pipes up suddenly, face incredulous, popping a candy in between his chapped lips. He begins eyeing up Harry a second later, the blue of his eyes twinkling like winter storms and the stars in the sky that always accompany the Northern Lights as Harry rests his head back on the couch, his curls splayed around his ears and on his forehead. Louis notices that the other boy has his sleeves wrapped around his fingers, making him look like a cherub or something. Maybe a bear. With paws. Sweater paws, _that's_ it. "And I'll have a shot if Harry takes one, too."

Niall's laugh is loud and cackling. "A'ight, lad."

"Who said I wanted a shot?" Harry asks, wide eyes and pink lips. Louis has always told him that he looks like a deer caught in the headlights whenever anyone even speaks with him, but Louis' conclusion was only ever dismissed, because, well, _you know_. It's _Harry_. He doesn't believe anything you tell him. 

"No one, Haz. But you should," he says. Harry doesn't look convinced, so he figures he will give it a shot. "Please? For meeeeee?"

And when Louis notices the slight twisting of Harry's lips, the sudden and sharp intake of breath, and the ear rub, he knows exactly what his next words are going to be. 

"...Okay."

Louis fist bumps the air. "Yes!" 

He doesn't miss the smile or the flush on Harry's cheeks that he tries to cover up by ducking his head. No, Louis definitely saw that. 

Niall lets out one of his signature cackles and heads to the kitchen briefly, before he's back with two shots of some foreign liquid and a beer under his arm. "Comin' right up, boys," he says, and then he's holding out both drinks. 

"What even is in here?" Harry asks, hesitantly reaching his nose to sniff the liquid in the shot glass and almost coughs. "Sure as shit ain't vodka."

"Tequila, young one," Niall grins, patting Harry on the head. Harry just swats at his arm. 

"Tequila's better than vodka. Did you know that stuff is made from potatoes? You're, like, drinking potato juice," Louis says, calmly stretching back into the couch. "Pretty fucked up, if you ask me."

"Nah, mate," Niall shrugs, "you've just gotta be more open minded about these things. You can eat potatoes, why not drink 'em?" 

"Oh, my god, someone please save this poor soul," Louis whines, covering his eyes dramatically. 

Harry can't help a small smile from forming on his face, even as his eyes roll as far to the back of his head as possible.

"Oh, shut up," Niall says, burping as he jumps onto the couch seat and almost makes Harry bounce. After a moment, he pauses, before saying, "Hey, we should play with a Ouija board or something."

Louis takes a swig of his beer. "And where are we going to find one of those? At the spooky store downtown? Just hop into the Mystery Machine, lads--"

"Ha, very funny," Niall starts, rolling his eyes. "Take your goddamn shots already, boys."

Harry's heart hammers in his chest when Louis looks at him and cracks a grin, biting his lip and raising his shot glass into the air. 

"Harry, baby," Louis yells--and fuck, okay, _baby_ \--and smiles even wider. "C'mere, let's have cheers."

So, of course, Harry gets up and scoots beside Louis, feeling his skin tingle when their fingers brush. He has to tell himself to breathe. Normally. Breathe normally, Harry. 

Louis laughs, all joyous and beautiful emotions rushing through the waves of his laugh, and Harry suddenly isn't breathing. 

"Cheers, Haz."

He has to blink to focus again. _Breathe_. "Right. Cheers."

Their shot glasses clink, and then they're both downing the substance. Harry grimaces as the alcohol burns his throat, but Louis just smiles as wide as ever and runs his hands through the other boy's curls. 

"You'll get used to the feeling, love," he whispers in Harry's ear. 

But then Liam is (finally) walking back into the room from outside. No one is sure when exactly he had left the bathroom and walked outside, but he's holding a pumpkin while another boy walking behind him is holding another. Harry recognizes the boy as Stan, Louis' friend since they hit high school. He doesn't exactly like Stan, but doesn't dislike him either, though this is Louis' other best friend and Harry really tries to respect that by not letting this get between his and Louis' friendship.

"We've come from the pumpkin patch with some free pumpkins," Liam grins, persona cheerful and excited. "Pretty easy to steal."

"You _stole_  those pumpkins?" Harry asks with disbelief, mouth hanging open like a little boy who just saw tits for the first time. "That's awesome."

"You _would_ think that," Louis snickers and laughs even harder when Harry glares at him. 

"Whatever, Lou. From where?" Harry questions.

Liam comes in with Stan following his every move like a little lost puppy ( _as if Liam isn't capable of functioning without a puppy dog behind him,_ Harry thinks) and they both set down the pumpkins on the coffee table. 

"About two blocks from here," Stan chimes in for the first time since he's stepped foot in their flat. 

"Looks like we're carving some pumpkins tonight," Louis smiles, walking over to Stan to give him a brief hug. "Nice to see you again, man." 

"It really is, best mate," Stan laughs, all bubbles and rainbows, and Harry could take back what he said earlier. He doesn't like Stan. 

But then Liam and Niall are piping in, Niall jumping off the couch while Liam fast walks down the hallway after him.

"I'll get the knives--"

"--And I'll get the markers!"

"Looks like we've got ourselves a couple of lapdogs, ey, lads?" Stan grins, coming up behind Harry as he places a hand on Harry's shoulder and shoots a smile towards Louis. Harry really, really tries not to jump at the slightest feeling of Stan's fingertips on his shoulder, but his body goes against him and then he's twitching away from Stan's touch in a split second.

He hopes Stan doesn't notice--but, of course, he does. Stan looks at the younger boy and smiles confusedly, but Harry chooses to just look down at his hands placed in his lap instead of answering the unsaid question of  _are you okay?_

"Sure do, I plan to keep 'em around for quite awhile," Louis shrugs, cracking a silly grin, and breaking Harry out of his thoughts.

"You're their friends, you're not _using_ them," Harry says bluntly, resisting the temptation to roll his eyes, slouch down into the couch and pout. He's eighteen, for fuck sakes, not a child. He needs to grow up. 

"Yeah," Louis says, slowly, confused. "I know, Haz. I was just taking the piss."

"Louis wouldn't use anybody," Stan interjects, and Harry really wishes he would just disappear already. Okay, maybe he definitely dislikes Stan. But he still doesn't let it get between his and Louis' friendship.

Harry bites back a scowl and smiles. "Yeah, I'm sure he wouldn't."

"You're sure?" Louis asks, eyebrows furrowing. "What does that mean?"

Right before Harry can speak a single word, Stan is laughing uncomfortably and walking to the pumpkins on the table as soon as he spots Niall and Liam running into the room. 

"Looks like we're carving pumpkins now," Stan says, wearily looking between his best mate and his best mate's best mate. 

"Oh, how fun," Harry mumbles. Stan doesn't react. Louis inhales.

 "I was thinking, maybe Harry and Louis should carve one pumpkin and the rest of us can carve the other? Since, you know, there are only two," Niall suggests, completely ignoring the tension in the air. Either that, or he hasn't noticed it. He pauses. " _Wait_ \--why did you guys only pick up two when there's five of us?"

"'S all we could carry, mate," Liam shrugs. 

Niall looks at him blankly, gears turning in his head, before shrugging and muttering a simple "okay" as he picks up a pumpkin and walks it to the kitchen. 

"I'll just sit this one out. I brought one home for you guys, anyway," Liam smiles. 

Louis smiles back, but glances at Harry through the corner of his eyes, and then it's faltering. "Stan and I can carve this one," he says. 

Harry tries not to let that comment stab his heart, but it does anyway. He finds himself sweating, the perspiration on his skin heavy, and the saliva building up in the back of his throat almost chokes him. He doesn't feel right. It feels all wrong. All wrong. 

"Niall, I need another shot," he says, hopping off the couch to find Niall in the kitchen. "Get me fucked."

"Two shots aren't gonna fuck you up, H," Niall cackles, drawing a face onto his pumpkin. It looks like Jigsaw. "But jello shots will, and we happen to have about a billion of those in the fridge--"

Before Niall can stop and get them out, Harry is fast walking to the fridge, placing them on the counter top and making a face. He thinks they're kind of gross. And he told Louis that he wasn't going to drink. Louis has no idea that he is even doing this. But frankly, Louis can go pound sand.

He picks a red shot up and swallows it as fast as he had it placed in his hand. "Nice pumpkin, Ni," he says, voice croaking, and swallows another. 

"Did you just--?" Niall asks, eyebrows furrowing like furry caterpillars. "Haz, slow down. You don't drink. You'll get sick."

"I told you I wanted to get fucked, didn't I?" Harry says. "That's what I'm doing."

"Like I said, you'll get sick. Here, come carve this with me," Niall offers, smiling tentatively, worriedly. "We can take more shots after."

Harry sighs. "Fine, okay, sure." He's pretty sure he can already feel something in his head. _Don't trip over your own two feet, Harry._

"I'm drawing this out, then you can carve it. If you're not going to murder me in the process. That's not really okay with me tonight," Niall grins. He pats the curly haired lad on the shoulder. "You've got this. Is something the matter?"

At this, all Harry can do is shrug. "Dunno."

Niall seems to catch on quickly. "Is it Lou? Because he said he wanted to carve a pumpkin with Stan rather than you?"

"Well, he didn't exactly say it like _that_ ," Harry mutters. 

"Maybe he just wants to spend time with his other mate, you know? He spends every day with you. Maybe it's nothin'," Niall says, full of comforting smiles and laughs. 

Harry can't help but sigh again. "Yeah, maybe."

"Now get carvin'," Niall snickers. "I'm done."

 "Wait--" he says, holding up one finger, before he reaches over to grab a grape shot and downs it. "'Kay, I'm ready."

 

 

 

 

 

Harry is drunk. He successfully carved a pumpkin--and it definitely looks better than Louis and Stan's, if he can say so himself, because theirs is mediocre and average--and turned it into Jigsaw with Niall's help, so he got rewarded with two more tequila shots and stole about four jello shots altogether. 

Louis still doesn't know that Harry has been drinking, because he has hauled himself up in the kitchen and as far away from Louis as he could muster, so he knows that walking out into the living room is only going to give himself away. 

He does it anyway.

"Hey, lookie here," Stan salutes, looking at Louis a second after. "Your favourite, little curly haired elf is back."

"It's--'s  _Halloween_ , not Christmas," Harry snaps with a slur of his words, plopping down onto the couch beside Liam who is watching Scream or something like that. His body feels like lead. Heavy and hard and numb at the same time. "And I'm no elf. Taller than you."

"Here, have a candy bar, No Elf," Louis pipes in, carefully watching his best mate swallow thickly and melt into the couch. 

He makes a disgusted face. "No, not hungry." 

"Aha!" Louis says, reaching out to touch Harry, but Harry violently jerks away. Louis ignores it. "But you _are_. And we're going to go grab you some food."

Harry groans. Fuck, he's so drunk. "I said I'm not hungry." 

Louis ignores that, too. He pulls the boy up from his seat and throws him on his back. Gently, if that is even possible. 

"Anyone want anything from Micky D's?" Louis asks, picking up his keys.

"Oh, shit," Niall moans. "Get me a McChicken, medium fries, a large coke and two apple pies on the side. I'll pay you back, I promise."

Louis rolls his eyes. "Right. I'm sure."

Harry can't help but remember the words he spoke earlier.  _I"m sure he wouldn't._

If he begins to feel guilty about that, it subdues due to the numbness now in every part of his body.

"--And two big mac meals with orange fruitopias," Liam and Stan both say. 

Before he knows it, Harry is being whisked away off his feet and out the door. Only, this time, his prince charming is his best friend that he is in love with.

 

 

 

 

 

They've been in Louis' car for about two minutes. Harry refuses to make a sound, and he knows that even if he did, his head would just pound harder, so he just lays back and takes deep breaths to try and forget about his nausea.

Louis is onto him, for sure.

"So," Louis says, breaking the silence. "Can I ask why you're drunk?"

"What does it matter?" Harry mumbles, fingers twisting with the strings on his hoodie. God, he's really hot all of a sudden. And he could really go for a greasy burger.

"Because," Louis says pointedly, expression serious, "you never drink, and then all of a sudden you were over there in the kitchen, plastered and scowling at me and Stan the entire night."

He should really think before he speaks, but he has a lot of liquid courage built up inside of him, and he finds himself raising his voice. "Because I don't like Stan!"

Louis has the audacity to look shocked. "Wait-- _why?"_

"He stole you from me," he says under his breath, knowing full well that the other boy wouldn't be able to hear him. 

"What?"

"He stole you from me, okay?" Harry says, practically squeaking.

Louis swallows, and then he is parking his car on the side of the street. Who knows if this is even legal? "What--Harry, no. No, he didn't."

"But he did!" Harry says, eyes full of fire and intensity. "We were best friends for God knows how long--since childhood, Lou--and then he came into your life, introduced you to Eleanor, and all you did for the rest of that school year was spend time with them while I was home alone every single night. Your new best friend and your girlfriend. And when Stan went off to college, it finally felt like I had you back. But now he's here again, and, _fuck_."

He feels himself banging his head on the window and he doesn't know why. It just feels right. "Fuck!"

"Hey, hey,  _hey,_ Haz _,"_ Louis says, leaning over toward the other boy after he unbuckles his seat belt. "Stop that and look at me." He doesn't stop. "Harry, stop, for fuck sakes!"

So he does. He doesn't feel anything but a heavy sensation in his head, his forehead tingling in the slightest way possible, but it still makes him want to cry. Instead, he looks up at Louis from behind his eyelashes. 

"Harry, you're my best friend. _You,"_  Louis says, cupping Harry's face with his hands. "You have no idea how much I cherish you, okay? No one could compare to my little Haz. No one. I promise."

"What about Stan?" Harry asks, eyes threatening to water. He feels like he has no control over himself anymore. 

"He's my friend. You're my best friend. There's a difference. There has never been any similarities in the way that I feel for you and the way that I feel for him."

Louis' breath hitches as he realizes what he has said, but Harry is attaching himself to Louis' words in an instant and asking, "How do you feel for me?"

And Louis knows that there is no going back, so he shrugs as nonchalantly as he can and looks into the boy's beautiful green eyes. God. His watery, green and yellow eyes. So beautiful. 

"How do you feel for me, Louis?" Harry tries again, demanding, wanting to be in control of the situation for once.

He doesn't even try to stop the words from falling past his lips. "I love you." 

And Harry's entire world crashes. He doesn't know what way Louis means that in, but his heart is beating out of his chest and his fingers are tingling and his hands feel on fire and everything inside of his gut is threatening to spill out. He begins to heave, but Louis has him against his chest before he can even think about how sick he is. 

Louis holding him makes him feel complete.

He remembers when they were thirteen. They would have sleepovers, play video games, have their mums order pizzas and go to bed spooning each other. Harry remembers the way that it felt to have Louis curled up behind him, arms wrapped around his waist and hair tussled and loose against the nape of Harry's neck. He remembers the goosebumps that he got from the simple graze of Louis' fingers on the bare skin near his hips. He remembers everything. Like how he fell in love with the boy, but never said anything. 

"Like a best friend?" Harry asks, sounding small and delicate.

Louis struggles to find his words, and Harry cuts him off.

" _Everything_ , Lou. I remember _everything_ ," he says, holding onto the other boy for dear life. He feels Louis' heartbeat against his chest, wishes that it was right against his ear so that he could finally get something comforting out of this whole situation. For once, he wants to be comforted. 

Louis looks confused. "Harry, I don't understand what you're trying to say?"

"I--I remember. I remember when I fell in love with you, Lou. I remember everything, okay? Absolutely _everything_. The thoughts won't stop--they just won't stop," Harry says, and he's going hysterical, gripping at his hair as tears fall down his cheeks like waterfalls. 

Louis' mouth opens and closes, looking at a loss for words. "Harry--"

"I get it. You're straight, I get it," Harry blabbers. He shouldn't have gotten this wasted. Heck, he shouldn't have gotten drunk in the first place. 

What he doesn't expect as a reply is for Louis to kiss him.

It feels like the world is beginning to spin again. Louis' hand is resting on his cheek, soft and plump and warm from the alcohol running through his veins, their lips moving heatedly against each other like they're using each other as their own oxygen supply. Everything feels magnified, wet and Harry's heart can't beat any quicker than this. 

Oh, my god, his best mate is kissing him. The best mate who he has been in love with for more than five years, ever since he realized what it felt like to want someone's lips against his own and to feel their fingertips moving through his hair and to hear them mutter the word  _'boyfriend'._

Louis' hands find their way to Harry's curls a moment later, their lips pressing against each other harder than before, probably getting bruised from the intensity and force. Harry doesn't care. He could be given a black eye and he would still feel like he's home.

"I don't care who I'm normally attracted to, Haz. They're not you," Louis says after he parts only a centimeter from Harry's lips. "No one is you, and I love you. Like a best friend--" Harry's heart hammers. "--and like a boyfriend."

"Boyfriend?" Harry asks, starry eyed, lips parted and breath hitching. 

Louis smiles awkwardly, beginning to flush. He looks to the side and lets out a heavy huff of air. "If you want to be?"

Harry answers in another bruising kiss that pushes his boyfriend back into the car seat. His _pinkpinkpink_ lips hover above Louis' ear. "We better get back on the road. Our boys at home are probably hungry."

Louis' all smiles and heavenly laughter. "And you need to brush your teeth."

**Author's Note:**

> comments and kudos are always appreciated
> 
> ♡ ♡ ♡ ♡ ♡


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